Passing Afternoon
by lotsofbananas
Summary: Set in S2, "It's the end of the world/as we know it." How things might have gone if Derek had been directed to Meredith after the bomb exploded.
1. Chapter 1

**So, I wrote this a while back and after having a dust out of files, figured this was one I was curious what feedback would be. I'm not a good writer by any means, but this one I liked a little more than others. **

**It's set back in season 2, the bomb episode- and is just a small twist from when Derek is asking where Meredith is, after the bomb explodes, and how it might pan out if Richard had taken him to Meredith instead of Addison. **

"Where is she?"

"You had to be a hero," Richard says, ignoring or perhaps missing the desperation in Derek's voice.

"Where is she?!" Derek repeats.

Richard can see Addison coming down the corridor; she hasn't spotted either of them yet.

Adele looks at Richard, it's pleading too, and he relents.

"She's right here." He says. It might be against his better judgement, and it most likely is a terrible idea, but he can tell just how distraught Derek is. And he can tell, without a doubt that Derek is not thinking or asking about his wife one single bit this time.

Before Addison can spot them or reach them, he puts a hand to Derek's shoulder and leads him off in the other direction. He takes Derek down the hallway, to the interns' locker room at which George O'Malley is sitting down against the wall outside.

Derek barely registers him there because all he can focus on is Meredith. All he _has_ to focus on is Meredith, because if he doesn't, if he doesn't see that she's alive and somewhat okay, he'll break. George looks up at Derek, mouth slightly ajar, both surprised and questioning Derek's presence here.

But Derek doesn't care. He needs Meredith.

Richard steps aside and Derek pushes the door open, slips inside and waits for it to close fully before continuing. Really, he needs to gather some courage first.

Meredith is in the shower, Stevens and Yang either side of her, brushing the multiple specks of flying debris and bloody pink dust off of her. It breaks Derek's heart that she's here, that she had to go through that. That she had to hold her hand on a bomb. That she witnessed a man blow up in front of her.

Cristina notices him first. "Hey, get out!" She hisses. "Get out!"

Derek ignores it, stepping into the shower and ignoring the spray of water as it splatters his clothes in heavy pelts. Meredith stares at him- not past him, not through him- at him, seeing him. He steps closer, and the pain in his eyes is apparently only evident to her.

"Get out!" Cristina repeats. "This is not your place anymore; she doesn't want you here! So get lost!"

Meredith doesn't refute this and he decides to take that as a good thing.

"Uh, Dr. Shepherd, she's right… this isn't your place and Meredith is… you can't be here right now so."

Izzie tries as well but nothing but Meredith telling him no will stop him.

"I'm taking her home." He finds himself saying.

Cristina pulls a face, like she doesn't understand why the hell he thinks he could or ever would be able to. "Uh, _no._" She says. "We'll take her home. You can steer well clear."

Derek shakes his head and repeats himself. "She needs to go home. I'm taking her."

Izzie looks at Cristina, and it's a different look than the one Cristina wears. He can tell, by way of quick glance, that Izzie is thinking he might be the better choice here.

"Meredith?"

She hasn't said a single word since the bomb exploded, since the hallway and Dylan blew up, literally, right in her face, and nearly knocked her right out. As awful as she feels now, as she will for a while most probably, the thought of Derek brings a little bit of comfort to her. And she's so messed up inside, so freaked out and walking around in a dream; it's a miracle that he alone can achieve that.

"Let him take me," She whispers, not taking her eyes away from him. She hasn't ever since he entered this tiny shower cubicle thing.

He steps forward, ignoring the two either side of her, turns off the shower spray and takes her in his arms. It not quite a full embrace, but she's going to savour it all nonetheless and so is he.

Cristina huffs but she leaves with Izzie. If it is what Meredith wants- despite not agreeing with it- she'll let her have it this time. Besides, there's something in Derek's eyes, his voice, his body that says he's hurting too and she can't take Meredith from him because of that.

***

They're curled up on the sofa, finding solace and ease of mind for themselves in each other.

His fingers trace over the cut on her forehead. His touch is delicate; it'd never be anything else. She feels cold, perhaps it's the shock, but his fingers spread warmth through her and spread it like a wildfire. It's wrong that it feels this good but at the moment? She doesn't care to differentiate right from wrong, good from bad. Married from not. She can't see anything past this blur of a day. She's not going to try. Everything hurts, everything feels off, everything feels too surreal for anything to be of comfort… so why would she push away the single thing that _does_ feel good right now?

He pushes the hair back away from her forehead. If she could form a coherent thought, she'd be amused at how things seem to have done a 180- if this were any other day, she'd be slapping him away sometime about now. Or she wouldn't be, because he wouldn't have touched her in the first place.

His fingers are still on her cut, barely touching it, barely touching her, as if afraid to. He swallows the lump in his throat, pushing down the awful, sick feeling, that this could've been much worse. He should be happy this is all she got.

Meredith is watching him, eyes not blinking or moving off him.

"You nearly died." He says, eventually, breaking the most uncomfortable of silences.

"I nearly died," She echoes.

He nods, and is suddenly very choked up. There are tears threatening to betray just how scared he felt and still feels at the prospect of nearly losing her. The lump in his throat can't be swallowed down.

"I'm glad you didn't die," He chokes.

She smiles, chuckles a little inwardly. "I hardly expected you to be glad I nearly did," She teases.

He manages a smile too, but then turns serious again. "If you'd… I couldn't have…"

"Sssh, I know," She whispers. It's her turn to hold him and she feels the salty tears leave his eyes and soak her shirt moments later.

When she yawns later, Derek realizes how exhausted she must be. He pulls her up off the sofa, tugging her by the hands. She'd protest, because going to bed means Derek'll leave, but her body screams its exhaustion out every pore in her body.

"I'll go when you're asleep," He says, as if reading her mind. Meredith is not even ok with that. That isn't enough.

She knows she needs him right now, as much as he needs her. Neither may be willing to admit it but they both need each other tonight. However, he can't stay with her. Not the whole night tonight or any other night. But fuck, she's gotta be one messed up person. He's caused her so much freaking hurt and she should be pushing him away with a barge pole, but she can barely bring herself to let him leave. She feels so damaged right now, it's surely gotta be wrong that the guy who's caused her the most damage in the past seems to be the only one that'll bring her comfort.

She lies underneath the covers, warm and snug as a bug in a rug; at first he lies on top next to her, his head on her pillow too. But she shakes her head and makes him get underneath like her. It is a little cold in her house, her bedroom, and he tells himself that his reason for getting underneath the duvet with her.

"Tell me what happened, tell me what happened in there." Derek pleads. It's cruel, making her re-live it, think about it again, and he knows that but he has to know.

Meredith scratches at her nose, thinking about it for a moment first. "Everyone left. The whole scrub team, everyone went. It was me and Burke, talking to Dylan. He was the…" She trails off. "The anaesthesiologist and the young girl were alone in there; he freaks out and leaves too. She has one hand on this _thing_ and one hand on the ventilator pump, keeping it going and keeping him breathing. But she leaves too. Who wouldn't? Getting out was the clever thing to do, it was the wise thing. I couldn't let it go off though. It was… I just reached for it, did it… it _couldn't_ explode, Derek. I _couldn't_ let it go off."

"No, I know," He soothes.

"And he, Dylan, was barking orders at me, and I'm me and I'm holding a bomb, so of course I start to freak out. So he tells me to picture someone I do like, not him, somebody that I do like, telling me what to do and telling me I can do it. So I closed my eyes, for a second and... it was _so_ white. I was still in the OR, standing exactly as I had been, except there was no table, nobody else there, no silly guy that'd fired a homemade bomb, no Burke, no guy yelling orders… just me, and then…"

When he thinks she won't finish that thought, he encourages her on. "Then what?" He asks curiously.

"Then it was just me and you." She whispers.

Derek raises an eyebrow.

Meredith misinterprets his expression, mistaking the shock of her imaging _him_ for scepticism. "I know it sounds stupid, ok? But you were standing there; you told me it'd be ok. You told me that I could do this. It was you. You helped me, you made me… able, to do it. You said I could do it and I believe you."

"You can do anything you want, you're the strongest person I know," Derek tells her. She snorts lightly, disputing that. "Except that, except what you did… no more hands on bombs, Meredith."

She can hear the agony in his voice. "No more hands on bombs," She agrees.

She's mostly towards slumberland, barely conscious when the bed shifts and she can feel his weight move. She doesn't open her eyes when she gropes for his arm and pulls him back to her, and she doesn't regret it when she croaks a hoarse, "wait."

"Mer…"

His insides curl with desire when she moves closer, tangling her legs with his and taking his arm and holding it around her body. Not desire to take her, to bury himself in her like he longs most days to do, but to be closer, to be with her. For Meredith to be his, he to be Meredith's again.

"I can't remember our last kiss." She whispers. "All I could think was, I'm gonna die today and I can't remember our last kiss which is pathetic, but last time we were together and happy, I wanna be able to remember that. And I can't, Derek. I can't remember."

Derek can remember with vivid detail. Too much for someone who is supposed to be a married man. But he can remember nearly every moment with Meredith and he's not going to let himself forget.

She wants to remember and he delights every time he thinks about them, so he's not going to deny her the chance of knowing.

"It was a Thursday morning. You were wearing that ratty little Dartmouth t-shirt you look so good in, the one with the hole in the back of the neck." Meredith rolls over on to her other side to face him, but at the last minute, avoids eye contact. "You had just washed your hair," He continues. "It smelt like some kind of… flower."

_The last few days, Derek has noticed she snores. Not a little, not quietly, but a fair, loud amount. It wakes him up, keeps him awake- but sometimes he doesn't mind so much because this loud noise that manages to come from such a small person? He finds it… adorable. _

_So this morning, he's already awake, watching her sleep and snore away. It's something she'd smack him for if she knew. His eyes rake up and down her body appreciatively, one hand following his gaze, trailing over her skin and loving each and every minute of it. He wonders if she'd be mad if he woke her up a little early to get in a quickie._

_She stirs in her sleep and the snoring cuts out to his amusement. Seconds later, she moves again, backing herself right up against him, her cute little ass pushing right up against his groin._

_Damnit. _

_Fuck._

_He doesn't care what mood she wakes up to now, he's going to have to wake her up for that sex now. He's already starting to feel hard and all she's done __be__ there and subconsciously brush herself up against his cock. He dips his head down and peppers her neck with kisses, sweeping her hair aside so he has full access to her neck. He knows it drives her insane, and he knows if he gets it right (and ok, if he's lucky) she won't wake up bad tempered, but in fact more than ready to go._

"_Derek…" She groans. "Getoff… what time is it?"_

"_Fifteen minutes till the alarm." He replies. "Which I'm sure you'll kill me for but… I __need__ you," He whispers, sucking on her neck. "You're here and naked and it's not something I can ignore. I __need__ you." He repeats._

_With a final groan, she rolls over to face him. She's bleary-eyed, very tired, and for a second he feels immensely guilty for waking her. "Kiss me first, wake me up." She says._

_He does, slowly and almost painstakingly well, because he's come to know that kissing her like this really riles her up._

_She loops her arms around his neck, pulls his head down to her and puts her lips to his ears. "Take me in the shower."_

_He likes this idea. "But—"_

"_No, no buts. 'Cept the naked ones." She laughs. She pushes him off, scrambles off the bed and to the shower, leaning against the door waiting. "Coming?" She asks. "Because I'm not freaking freezing my ass off waiting."_

_He bounds off the bed and she squeals as he tickles her, pushing her into the shower ahead of him. _

_The play fighting and teasing calms down fast, when they seem to take note of just how wet and naked the other one is. "I want you now." Meredith tells him, brushing wet curls from his face. Derek murmurs his agreement. One small hand, wet and slippery, delightfully like her, grasps his cock and as much as he wants and is desperate for her, he has to protest when she wraps one leg up around his hip and starts to guide him inside her. If he's inside her now, there's little chance he'll be able to withdraw and get away to locate one of those little silver foil condom wrappers- which he's pretty sure are only back in the bedroom._

"_Mer, we need—"_

_He is cut off by a hot, heavy kiss. "Here's the deal." She whispers. "We both know we're clean thanks to the hospital testing thingy… and… I've been on the pill for a little while now so we can do the spontaneous things, spontaneous sex things like sex in the shower," She purrs, "that don't have to require a condom. If __you__ want to. I __do. __I trust you so, if you want to…" She trails off, suddenly in a moment of self doubt._

_He doesn't need time to think that over or to tell her that yes he wants to and yes he trusts her, instead pushes himself up inside her and lets her know that way._

_She trusts him, has given him a big part of herself and he could potentially ruin them if he doesn't tell her about the closet of skeletons soon._

_She wraps her legs around his waist, rolls her head back, cusses in such a way that it spurs him on, and he forgets about everything that isn't her or them. She clenches her muscles, teases him, and milks him dry when he cums after her._

_***_

_Meredith is almost amazed at how fast he can be ready sometimes. When he's not taking his time and making sure his perfect hair looks perfect, he can be done in five minutes sometimes. He can be slow and lazy when he wants, mostly when they're both too tired and unwilling to get to work, preferring to stay in bed with each other instead- but at other times it's mad that she could blink and he'd go from being naked to dressed, empty mug to steaming hot one, bare feet to socked-and-shoe-ed._

_She's sitting in the kitchen, having made several pieces of toast and fresh pot of coffee. She's left a bowl of that healthy crappy cereal he might as well adore, minus the milk because she's not a hundred percent sure he'll have time for cereal. To stick a piece of toast or two between his teeth, maybe. _

_Derek is dashing like a mad man, trying to leave on time, glaring at her when she mocks him for her later shift. He practically skids into the kitchen, not yet having a pair of shoes on and slipping in his socks on the floor. Derek reaches out and grabs the counter top, steadying himself before he falls flat. Meredith smirks and holds back a laugh, but is unable to stop a small sound emitting her lips. The thought of him nearly falling, flat on his back, feet up towards the sky is amusing to her._

"_Oi," He grins impishly. "That wasn't funny. What if I'd fallen?"_

"_Then you'd have hit your head and maybe occurred a little damaged to your already damaged brain."_

"_Not. Amusing." He punctuates, chuckling nonetheless. _

_Meredith snakes two arms around his torso and pulls him in to her body. They stand, so close their faces are but mere inches from each other, close enough to feel one another's breath on their cheeks. They stand still, quiet for a moment, looking at each other, smiling mischievously as their eyes meet, before Meredith leans in to kiss him. _

"_As much as I'm happy to remain here and do this," He says, speaking in between kissing her, "I don't think anyone else would be happy if they knew the reason I was late was so I could get in plenty of this." He tugs at her lower lip, capturing it between both of his._

"_Well, I don't want to stop kissing you just yet. It makes __me__ happy to know the reason you're late is because of this."_

_Derek walks them backwards until they hit a stool, pushed out from the counter. Running his hands down her body to under her bum, he hoists her up on to the seat. Meredith opens her legs so he can stand in between them. He kisses her a last time, making sure this one will last him-and her-until they get a small opportunity again. Whenever that is. Too freaking long._

"_I should've left five minutes ago," He groans, leaning her forehead against his. "I don't have time for this at all."_

"_So go," She whispers. _

_He sighs and again groans. He grabs a slice of toast and bites of a piece. "I need to do my teeth." Bites another piece. "Will you pour me some coffee into a flask?"_

"_Ask nicely, I might." _

_Both arms encircle her and hold her tight. "Please, Meredith, please pour me some coffee." He growls into her neck. "Pour me some goddamn coffee." His lips nibble her ear. "And then I'll repay your kindness tenfold tonight. Over and over and over." _

_She shivers involuntarily. __God, the things this man did to her…_

"_I think I can do it then." She manages, her mind slowly turning to those bad, porny thoughts in which Derek stars stark naked. She swats his ass. "Go."_

_He's finished his slice of toast by the time he's reached the bathroom, does his teeth and is back down in less than a minute. He grabs his shoes, sitting back down at the kitchen table to put them on. Meredith pushes the coffee across the table to him and picks up her newspaper again to read._

"_So," He starts, "I want to take you to dinner tonight, what do you think? Good food, bottle of wine, carbs in a basket…"_

"_I think I like it, sounds great. Gives me something to look forward to today. Just nowhere too fancy because by the end of my shift I'm gonna be looking like crap."_

_He laughs and shakes his head. "Never. Let me know when you're finishing and we'll meet down in the lobby?"_

"_Yep, will do." He stands up and grabs the hot flask._

"_I need to run so, see you at work?" He bends down, brushing the loose strands of hair from her face. She leans to him, puts her hand on his chest and kisses him._

"It was soft, quick, kind of like a habit. You know like, we'd being doing it every day for the rest of our lives. I went to work and you went back to reading the paper."

Meredith looks up at him now, having had her gaze focused down on the pillow as the memory had come flooding back to her. Not just the kiss but the moments before: in the kitchen, in the bathroom, the bedroom, the waking up tangled in his warm body…

"That was the last time we kissed." He finishes quietly.

She nods her thanks, because she can't trust herself to speak. They sit in silence for an unknown amount of time, both mulling over that kiss and what it means to remember and still feel it with such vivid detail.

Meredith knows that if Derek stays with Addison, these memories are all she'll have of them. So she'll make sure she remembers them. She'll think of them and look back, knowing they were all good memories, knowing _they_- her and Derek- were good. Before it all. She won't cling to them, or to him, not forever, just as long as it takes for her to accept this for what it is and move on. But until then she has absolutely no intention of forgetting anything else.

"I should go now," Derek says, injecting the silence with noise. "You need to rest. Sleep."

"Right," Meredith croaks. How long has it been since she'd spoken again?

He pushes up from the bed and she does the same, pulling herself into a sitting position. Derek walks over for his shoes, brings them back over and perches on the edge of the bed to pull them on.

"Thanks for staying with me," She says. "Thank you for being here."

"I couldn't have been anywhere else," He admits honestly. He pulls her in for a hug and for a moment, they both get lost in each other again. "I needed to know," He whispers. "I needed to know you were ok and alive, I needed to know…"

The latter part of this day would've been much harder without him there and she's more grateful than she can tell him. She nods and buries her face in the crook of his neck, suppressing the urge to press her lips to the skin there.

When he pulls away, after what felt like both an eternity and not enough time at all, there's something she can see in his eyes; something he wants to say? She can read his expressions like a book sometimes, but she can't quite pinpoint what the exact one is this time. There's a hesitance in there and it confuses her.

"What?" She whispers, not wanting to sound harsh or annoyed or anything that might turn whatever he wants to say or do around.

He leans in, kisses her. His lips brush over hers, shape themselves over hers. It's gentle and it's sweet, it's passionate and it's everything. Her eyes are closed, she kisses him back and he is everywhere. The feelings he ignites in her, always, burn like a fire, and burn every part of her. She reaches for him, three fingers cupping each side of his face, delicate and barely there.

It might have only been a relatively short time since they last did this but this is something she feels like she's been missing forever.

_It was soft, quick, kind of like a habit. You know like, we'd be doing it every day for the rest of our lives._

He kissed her like it was everything, trying to get across to her every single thing he felt for her. He kissed her for every time he'd thought of doing this, for every time she'd invaded his head and stayed on his mind, he kissed her for every time he'd thought he'd fallen in love with her. One hand leaves his face and she rests it on his chest, hovering over where his heart is. She feels like this is as close as she'll get to it.

When he pulls away, his eyes scanning hers and taking note of her swollen lips and laboured breath and racing heart, he leans in again, kissing her one last time. Resting their foreheads together, both are waiting until their breathing returns to normal. Until they _feel_ normal- _if_ possible because neither feels anything that resembles normalcy when it comes to the other.

"Remember _this_ kiss, ok?" He says to her, with a hint of a smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey and thanks to those reading. :)**

There's no explanation behind it, except that maybe someone somewhere hates Derek, but Mark is in Seattle. The visit is supposedly just a flying one- but one Derek can't figure out the reason for, because he knows Mark wouldn't dare try an apology this soon after.

Finishing up in a patients' room is when he catches that first glimpse of Mark. Unluckily for Mark, Derek had already mentally sworn to deck his former best friend one if he ever saw him again. However, it's in the hospital, at work, so doing that now wouldn't look at all good. But, even more unluckily for Mark, he happens to be talking to the one person that would and does send him into a rage- and it isn't the person legally called his wife.

And furthermore, Mark doesn't talk to women. Mark flirts and Mark flirts with the intention of getting the other party to drop their pants.

There's blood and adrenaline and rage and jealousy and about a thousand other emotions coursing through Derek so it's not until his fit actually connects with Mark's jaw that he realises he forgot that that punch might actually be painful to his hand.

Meredith looks mad and confused, Addison is hanging open-mouthed, Richard has his angry "what the hell" face on and plenty of other hospital personnel and patients are watching on both shocked and amused and grateful to be first-hand witness to what is going to be the day's gossip.

Not five minutes later and Derek is sitting before the Chief, nursing a swollen hand, avoiding both the eyes of his boss and embarrassed wife.

He hates Addison again.

Sure, maybe it wasn't her fault that Mark turned up and that Mark flirted with Meredith, but if she hadn't spread her legs to his best friend in the first place, maybe he wouldn't know how much hurt it was possible to feel.

"Put the damn ice on your two million a year hand." Richard snaps. "Now, would someone tell me what the hell happened?"

"That was Mark." Addison says quietly.

"Who's Mark?"

"He and Derek used to work together back in New York. And they- we- were all close friends… until Derek found us in bed together."

Just the words again are enough to make Derek nauseous. He drops his head.

There's a pause and then Richard asks: "Did you put your weight behind it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well alright then."

Both Derek and Addison leave the office, Derek turning on his heel and storming away the minute they've shut the door.

***

It's rare, especially at this time of day, but thankfully, Derek has managed to find an empty room. It's in the basement and he knows from Meredith's love of escaping down here that you can barely be disturbed in place. It's exactly what he needs now- a short time to think and to nurse his wounds, with no distraction or interruptions. No fucking wives harassing him, no so-called friends trying to win back your graces, no patients or families or fellow doctors unable to keep to themselves for ten minutes.

There's a quick vibration against his hipbone; his phone sitting on his waistband bleeping a text message.

_I'm looking everywhere and I give up. Where are you?_

For a minute he considers ignoring it, because he's doesn't want to be and isn't going to be good company for anyone right now. But he craves and replies, letting in on his hiding place.

Two minutes later, there's a soft rap on the other side of the door before it is pushed open. It's closed just as quietly and the whole room feels thick with awkwardness.

"I should've guessed you could be down here," Meredith says. "I poked my head down the corridor, I don't know why I didn't check better."

She slides into a chair next to him, swivelling it around a small degree so her body faces him more than the table it sits at. He shouldn't, but he can't help but want her even closer. Last night closer.

"I can't believe you punched him," She revels, breaking the silence. After they'd sat there for nearly five minutes saying nothing, she couldn't stand it another minute. "What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't." He'd seen Mark, seen him next to Meredith and immediately seen red.

"You could've been in so much trouble for this," She whispers.

He shrugs. "I don't care." He replies quietly.

"Well, you shouldn't have done it," She says. "But… for the record, if I'd been in your shoes, I'd have done the same thing. Maybe slapped though. But he deserved it so, you did the right thing in that regards."

"Thanks."

She scoots closer. "Is your hand ok?"

He shrugs. "It's swollen. Bruised a little."

"Can I?" Not waiting for his answer, she lifts the icepack off his hand, biting her lip when she sees his bruises.

Her touch drives him mad. His hand is cold, a little numb from the ice, and the warmth from her hand spreads through his hand, through him, like a wildfire. Her fingers are delicate, tracing over the little purple marks on his knuckles. He's mostly focused on her hand on his, but through his peripheral vision he can see the frown on her face. She's not happy about the state of his hand. And as much as she doesn't want to be, she's not happy he's hurting.

All he wants to do is flip his hand over so he can hold hers instead. Can't. Shouldn't. Desperately wants to. She's staring at his hand, at the bruises, with such intensity and worry that it's all he can do stop himself leaning in, kissing her, and taking her breath away. Again, like he did last night, in her bedroom. When he was reminded just how much Meredith Grey meant to him and had the ability to tilt his world on it's axis a little.

Meredith puts the icepack back on his hand and then sandwiches it between both of hers. She holds it tight. Not tight that it hurts, but tight that he thinks she's not letting go. She holds it tight like it's hers to hold.

"Mark says…" She begins slowly, "that you hit him because you saw him talking to me. But I say it's because you hadn't seen him since you left NY, since you caught him… well, you know. And that hitting him was the natural, deserved, reaction." One thumb is rubbing his hand. Does she realize she's doing it? Does she realize she shouldn't? Does she realize that, if she stopped now and pulled her hands away, Derek would reach for them back? He's missed her touch and up until last night he hadn't been conscious of how much he craved it.

"I need you to tell me it's the latter, Derek." She whispers.

Derek is silent. Punching Mark was his natural reaction. If there'd been nobody around, if Meredith hadn't been so close, he'd have tried beating Mark to a pulp. And it would've been deserved. What best friend sleeps with your wife, then dares to come out to Seattle for… for what? What had he come out here for?

But seeing Mark with Meredith was what pushed Derek over the edge. And he knew Mark, Meredith didn't- Mark wasn't talking to her, Mark didn't _talk_ to women. He flirted and he'd been flirting with Meredith. Derek's blood had boiled seeing it then, and it boiled again when he thought about it now. Mark had always had a habit of going after what was Derek's and like hell Derek would stand there and let him go after Meredith. The thought made him sick.

Meredith turned her head to look at him and he knew he had to answer.

He's already lied to Meredith enough in time he's known her. It doesn't matter if she doesn't ever give him another chance; if he ever wants her to have the smidgen of trust in him; he's got to tell her the truth. He might as well start now. And he'll take the consequences as they come.

"Tell me it's the latter," She says again.

He shakes his head. "I can't."

She sighs, nodding slowly as she processes that. He takes a chance, leans to his side and rests his head on her shoulder. He can't describe the relief when she doesn't shrug him off, or tell him no.

"Sorry about your hand." Meredith tilts her head down too, resting against the top his. She holds his hand now, fingers curled around his. They sit there for an indefinite amount of time, in silence, until George barges in (how had he found them?), mutters a startled 'oh!' at finding them like this, then informs them that Addison is looking for Derek, has been for a while, and is getting more irked by the minute.

***

It's been a day that only a word such as 'hell' could describe; Derek is more than ready for it to be over and done with. It's one thing for Mark to show up, unannounced and all charming and flirty and only slightly remorseful and then to flirt with Meredith, but the man is now interfering in on Derek's patient, contradicting Derek left, right and centre. And his patient, not even out of his teenager years, passes away on the table in the end too, so. The day can't get much worse in Derek's opinion.

So it's not only been a hellish day, but a hellish week too. First it was Meredith and the bomb, now it's Mark… everywhere. And all through this crap, seeing Meredith- whether it's sitting in an empty room with her for half an hour in a more than comfortable silence or just saying a fleeting 'hey' when he passes her, is what is making it a little more bearable.

It shouldn't be like this. Not really. Not when he has a wife and marriage that he's supposed to be trying to make work. But he can't help it. Meredith nearly dying shook him up more than he realized and all he wants now is to be closer to her and give her some of the comfort too that she provides him. And by some incredible miracle, the bomb incident seems to have Meredith more willing to be near him than before when he'd become the boyfriend who'd hidden having a wife.

Derek ignores that he's being hunted by Satan, as he is back to referring to her again. In his head. Not to her face- that'll just cause more unneeded agro later. He doesn't see either his supposed wife or former best friend until he's finished work and leaving, thankfully.

It's almost like they've cornered him as he waits for the elevator, and Addison is whining, frustrated at Derek's rudeness towards her. Mark is ignorant enough to ask why Derek can forgive Addison, but not him.

"I haven't forgiven her." Derek says, ignoring the color drain from Addison's face. "And with you, I have no obligation to try."

Once he's in the elevator, he pulls out his phone, dialing Meredith's number. He needs to hear her voice so he can breathe easy again.

She answers just as he's about to hang up. He asks if she's ok first, trying to keep the conversation away from him so he doesn't have to admit how awful and near breaking point he feels.

"Are you doing anything at the moment, I'm going to head to Joes and I want… I want to buy you a drink." He tells her that, instead of telling her he wants, he craves her company. For her to sit there and drown her sorrows alongside him.

"Uh, I'm not… I'm out, I'm busy. But I'll let you know when I'm done if you want. We'll still get that drink."

He senses something in her voice and her words that she's not going to tell him what she's busy with, and he's curious, but he won't push it. If she wants to tell him she'll tell him.

"Ok," He says, trying to keep the disappointment at not seeing her immediately out of his voice. "Talk to you later then."

"See you, Derek."

She disconnects the line instantly.


	3. Chapter 3

**So, I definitely should've updated this sooner, it's stupid that it's been almost a year. Also a little unbelievable. I could say that it's down to computer problems, up-and-moving-about problems, but it's also me being a lazy bum. I hope people will still read and please comment too :)**

* * *

A small number of drinks and an indeterminate amount of sulking later, brings it to half past eleven. And maybe Meredith has forgotten about their drink. Maybe she's still out, still busy doing… whatever it was she was doing or maybe she went straight home and fell asleep instantly.

He is worried a little. Simply because of their phone call and how distant and off she sounded. Sure, she'd been through the crapper a little recently, so maybe tonight was just getting to her, but he couldn't help but be concerned nonetheless.

It's bound to be too late to call her and check, but that doesn't stop Derek driving her way, driving to her house to check. He just _needs_ to know. That's she's alright, that she'll help comfort him for a little and that… she's still Meredith and still the woman who loves him. He knows it when she looks at him, when she talks to him, how she acts- and that's what he wants to know now.

He rings the doorbell twice. Hopefully it doesn't wake her, or her roommates. That'd be worse, because they're highly unlikely to let him in or give him any Meredith-related information. Nobody answers. So he pulls his cell from his pocket, thumbs down his address book to her number and hits the send button. He lets it ring an eternity before giving up and conceding that she's not going to answer. Now he's more concerned than before. He tells himself that he's being irrational. Because it's late, she's bound to be tired, so is probably curled up in bed and dead to the world for the night. Or, she's still out, busy doing what she was doing.

As he sighs and looks to the ground, his eyes fall on the doormat. And then he remembers the key that's hidden under it. He remembers seeing her grab it from there one time after she arrive home to find she'd forgotten her keys at work. He'd told her the doormat was too obvious a place to hide spares and that that'd be the first place a burglar might look. She'd rolled her eyes and brushed it off, told him not to be so paranoid.

He debates his decision one last time as his fingers curl around the cold silver metal of the key. What if she is home and didn't answer the door or phone for a reason? He could just make her pissed. Besides, he's the ex who'd only just become her boyfriend, is it really ok to let himself in to her house?

He does it anyway.

* * *

Meredith stands by her bedroom window, staring out of it but not really looking.

She's given up with thinking that her life can get much worse at this point because lately, that's all it seems to do. She might as well take things as they come and not expect anything better because then it hurts less and she doesn't have to be disappointed.

She closes her eyes, drops her head a little. Her life is a mess. Always has been. And if she were to judge on how things were looking at the moment, she'd say it wouldn't be that unwise to hedge all her bets on the rest of her life being messy.

There's a knock on her door and she turns her head half-heartedly, mutters "come in".

It's George. Who looks a little… strange. She hopes he hasn't broken something else of her mothers, like he did last week. Or hopes he's not going to try talk to her, again, because she's more reasonable than Izzie is when it comes to why he _really_ can't buy tampons from the store again.

But it's neither of those things. Instead, it's three little words that he needs to tell her. Three little words. Few letters. Monosyllabic. He has all these feelings inside him that he couldn't begin to describe or verbalise, and these three words sum them all up perfectly. It should be easier.

But it isn't because he's George and she's Meredith and he loves Meredith.

_He is_ going to tell her tonight, he _is-_he just needs another minute or two or ten or fourteen to gather up that last bit of courage. Everyone keeps telling him that he just needs to say it, admit his feelings. And he wishes it was that simple. And he knows she's not quite over Shepherd, but he wants to be the person she turns to and knows will be there for her, unlike some married exes.

George closes the door and Meredith turns back towards the window, looking outside at the rain as it pelts down in sheets. It hadn't been raining earlier.

She likes it now it is.

George wastes no time and is standing in front of her, ready to say his piece, put his heart on sleeve and his feelings out there.

"I know I'm not a world-renowned surgeon… I know I'm not a lot of things you've gone for in the past… I know. But. I would never leave you."

There's definitely a bit of confusion swirling in Meredith's head at this point, but she doesn't show it. She'd rather hear George out first before saying anything.

"I will never hurt you. And I will never stop loving you."

The confession, shocking as it is and, as much as she didn't see it coming, barely triggers a response. _I love you._ That's what he just said, right? Is she so messed up that, being told something as strong as that, fails to make her feel anything? _George loves her?_ She stayed silent during his admission and she's still silent now. He's waiting for some response from her, surely. Who says that and doesn't want anything said back in return? But what _can_she say? She's stunned. Except she's not stunned, because nothing is really registering as shock in her system anymore. When he doesn't blink, doesn't crack a grin, look away, move, say anything else, it begins to sink in that it's more than likely he means what he's saying.

She's Meredith.

And she's pretty broken.

She reaches for his waist, rests her hands on it.

She reaches for his shirt, hesitating, but just barely before she takes the bottom of it in her fingers, pulling it up and off his chest.

* * *

Descending the stairs quietly, because he has no idea if she's awake or not, much less in there, Derek pauses outside the door. If she is there, he hopes she's not mad at his intruding. But he needs to see her, his need and desire to is at a level it shouldn't be. That wife of his would be furious if she found out.

He knocks on the door, calls out "Meredith?" and then pushes the door open wide.

He's knocked for sixes as his eyes fall on her.

And George.

Shirtless George.

And her arms on his chest.

And his arms around her.

Both parties have their mouths wide open. George's quickly left shocked to annoyed that, not only have they been interrupted, but by Derek Shepherd nonetheless. Meredith, dropping her hands slowly from George's chest, struggles to swallow down the lump in her throat, her eyes locked on Derek's, looking just as injured as he is.

George looks to Meredith, for... back-up, for her to tell Derek to get out, because what he's just said and done is pretty important. But when he finds her staring at Derek, he knows there's absolutely no chance of getting that. No chance of getting Meredith either because, plain to see, she's still very much Derek's, despite everything that he's done and despite the wife he has.

God, he's such a fool.

He doesn't grab his shirt as he hurries out the room and he gives Derek his best evil glare as he does- or tries, anyway, because he's George and he doesn't really have evil glares. In fact, all Derek would probably have seen would've been the hurt in his eyes, on his face. And that just makes this horrible situation even more embarrassing.

"Why are you here?" Meredith whispers.

Avoiding the question and closing the door behind him, he ignores the fact she hasn't invited him in -it's too late for that, seeing as he's just let himself in the house anyway. "If I hadn't walked in then… if I'd come in five minutes later… would I have found you in bed together?"

Meredith hangs her head. "I don't know."

Derek closes his eyes and tries to blot out the images in his brain. "God, Meredith," He sighs.

She sinks down at the foot of her bed and pulls her knees up to her chest. Sometimes, she really does have a spectacular way of screwing things up.

"I... _George_, Meredith? Were you...? I can't... _I feel sick._"

Meredith glares now. "You have no room to talk, Derek." It's not accusatory; she just wants to point out how it feels. "You don't think I know you sleep with Addison? Come on. Knowing that every night, you climb in bed beside her? That makes me want to throw up. That crushes me a little inside. You can say whatever you want about this Derek but don't think I don't know how it feels."

She has a point. It's perfectly fair. It's exactly how he's feeling and how he feels when he thinks what might've happened, had he come in a short time later. He wants to explain that, it's not just that it's with George- he'd be feeling like this were it with anyone. The thought of her being with anyone else turns his insides.

When they'd stood next to each other over an operating table, operating on her one-night-stand who'd shown up at the hospital suffering from a priapism, he'd told her how surprisingly painful it was, the moving on.

Now was no different.

No, it was. Because now it felt fifty times worse.

He opens his mouth to tell her this because, though he shouldn't, she deserves him to be honest with her. "_Meredith."_

"When you called earlier? I went to see my father." She whispers. "My father that left when I was four. Thatcher. The Thatcher I haven't seen in over twenty years. The one that couldn't stay and fight for a relationship with his five year old daughter."

Derek doesn't know what to say. Maybe this is a better line of conversation than the George/moving on one, but... this isn't exactly the easiest of ones either. Nothing is easy.

"My mom had an affair. Which is why my father left."

"Thatcher told you this?"

"No. My mother did." She sighs and fiddles with the small hole at the end of her sweater sleeve. It's a cotton thread and unravels easily. A little like her. "I went to see her this morning and she… you don't ever want to hear any details whatsoever about your parents sex life, do you? You'd rather just think they don't have sex because it's easier that way."

"What did she say?"

"That, that man makes her purr like a kitten, when he isn't making her growl like a tiger.'" Derek grimaces. "Yeah, horrible right? I asked her to stop, but she doesn't. And I'm just managing to keep out the disgusting dirty images that could create in my mind when she says… she says 'and my husband wonders why I'm not interested in him anymore.' How do you respond to that?"

Derek doesn't reply and she continues.

"Luckily, she reminds me that she is tired, sends me away because she needs to rest before she's paged again and I… get the hell out there."

Derek looks at her, sympathetically. Not that he'd ever be handed that information, but he can feel for her nonetheless.

"She's essentially just admitted to sleeping with a man that isn't my dad. To having an affair. What the hell am I supposed to do with that information?"

"I've no idea," He says. When he was handed the information, served on a plate right in front of his eyes that his wife was sleeping with a man that wasn't her husband he'd walked straight out and hadn't looked back. This was different though- Meredith was only just finding out the reason after all these years the reason her father had abandoned her when she was little. She couldn't walk away from this. But she couldn't confront her mother because her mother would not be in a fit state to give her the answers she needed. And assumedly, she couldn't go ask the man that was more a stranger than a father to her because that'd get her nowhere either.

Meredith slips out from his arm and sits down on the floor at the foot of her bed.

"Do you love her?"

Derek blinks.

"Addison, do you love her?" Meredith repeats, mistaking his startled expression for confusion.

He doesn't want this conversation because it's too hard to admit either possible answer. Both hurt. And, he's not sure which answer it is.

"Derek?"

He shrugs. It's too nonchalant, too dismissive for her liking. "I don't know."

Meredith shakes her head. "You gotta give me more than that." Her voice drops and she sounds as vulnerable as she had the other night, when she'd begged him not to go yet and remind her of when they were last happy. "Because I can't have lost someone I love to a woman you _don't__know_ if you love. _So._ Do you love her?"

Can he tell her that he's pretty sure he loves her too?

"Derek."

"Please don't make me answer. I don't know."

"That's not good enough," She whispers.

"I _don't_," He stresses. "I know I did once. But now there's too much hurt to look past and too much confusion in my head for me to know what I feel."

She chuckles, laughing in spite of herself. She loves him and he maybe loves someone else.

"Falling in love with you is probably one of the stupidest things I've done."

The words are a sucker punch to his gut. "You regret it?" He asks hoarsely. And he can't help but sound wounded, sound hurt when asks, because that's exactly how he feels in the moment. Meredith moves a smidgen closer to him. Some strange, natural reaction it is- wanting to be closer to him. To comfort him. Why does she want to take away his hurt, when he's caused her so much of it?

"No, I don't regret it." She says honestly. "Life just would've been _so. much. easier_ had I not. Things wouldn't… hurt this much, I guess." She laughs bitterly.

"So, if you could go back, knowing what you knew… would you stop yourself falling in love with me?"

The question has her thinking. If she didn't love Derek Shepherd, fuck… things wouldn't hurt so much. She wouldn't have to pull herself out of bed every day, she wouldn't have to stop herself from wanting to throw up when she saw him and Addison together… and she wouldn't lie in bed every night, picturing her and Derek together, and feeling her heart break again when she realised her life was just that- picturing, not being, with Derek.

But if she _didn't_love Derek?

She hasn't loved any man before, but she loves Derek. And despite how they are, where they are, what he's done to her… loving Derek still gives her the most incredible of feelings. Derek, despite the lie, is one of the best men she's known. And she wouldn't change any of that. Or any of those feelings, at least.

"I wouldn't stop myself from falling in love with you." She replies, quietly. "I love you. And that's… it's bad, it's wrong and it's hurts but… loving you? How ever much it does hurt still makes me feel… it makes _me_ feel… good. So, I wouldn't change it."

The admission is more than music to his ears. Everything shit that there is in his life at the moment, doesn't form a thought or feeling in his body, when he's heard that.

Mark? ...not worth it.

Addison? ...can deal with it later.

George? … probably not something to be too worried about.

Meredith loves him. He's lied to her about having a wife, made her a dirty mistress, messed her around and treated her like crap-and still she loves him and wouldn't change it, given the chance. She's had a lot of crap in her life, and he's sure he hasn't scratched the surface on much of it, and yet she's still this incredible, strong, woman. Who loves him. God, the feeling is amazing. More than that. It's pure elation. She is amazing.

He rests his head on her shoulder and in a moment of either stupidity or cleverness, whispers to her that he wouldn't change falling in love with her either.


	4. Chapter 4

**I've written this update a good few times, each one pretty different. And disliked them all, including this one. But I can't think of anything else at the moment, my brain is too occupied with other bits of rubbish! So, excuse this one for not being particularly great :P ...**

"_I don't regret falling in love with you."_

_Meredith snaps her head up in slight shock. She did hear right. A few weeks ago, this would've been music to her ears. If he'd reciprocated then after she'd said it, it would have been uphill from there. But not now._

_Now everything is wrong. That was wrong. Why does he keep playing with her, pushing her away and pulling her back to him? Why does she keep letting him?_

"_You need to go, please. Go."_

"_What? No. Why?"_

"_Get out. Leave."_

"_Why? Meredith, don't—"_

"_Get out! I can't take this from you anymore! You have got to stop, Derek! I can't do it anymore, this messing about. Go home, __please__."_

* * *

This is perhaps the best elevator rides Meredith has ever enjoyed in this hospital. Perhaps anywhere, ever. It's certainly not awkward. Definitely no tension in the air, so thick it would need a freaking hacksaw to cut it. She hasn't got George 'Meredith, I love you,' O'Malley behind her and Derek 'Meredith, I'm still… something towards you and oh, hey, what's George up to in your room tonight and why are you undressing him?' Shepherd to her front right.

If she did have them, then she'd surely be on her hands and knees on the very spot, praying that the floor of the elevator would open up and swallow her whole.

Unfortunately, the floor isn't going to open up and unfortunately, for everyone on this ride, George O'Malley is behind her and Derek Shepherd is to her front right, nicely making this the most awkward journey and start to their days.

God, why was it everything just continued to get more messy? Surely there had to be a limit to the mess and…suckiness, which was her life at present. Maybe next her friendship with Cristina would be going down the drain. Or she'd trip up and do something stupid stupid stupid at work and get severely blacklisted or kicked out.

The bell rings and signals that they're at the second floor. A nurse gets on. George makes- bumbles- his way past and exits at the last minute, too. A whole two floors early. The second the doors have closed, Derek turns his head around and gives Meredith a look. Not that she looks back. Her eyes are on the floor. Avoiding eye contact, avoiding them, this. Just avoiding. So Derek shuffles back, ignoring the curious glance of the nurse, making no attempt to find out the latest installment in the Meredith-Derek saga.

"Can we talk?"

"Rather not."

"Meredith."

"Derek, not _here._"

They both glanced at the nurse, who quickly glanced away. Looked at her watch. Pulled a face as she tapped at her watch. A blatant attempt to make it obvious she hadn't been curiously ear wigging in on their conversation only made it more obvious she had been.

When she'd told him to love her, love her in return, in what seemed like fifty scrub rooms ago, and he'd chosen his wife, she hadn't known what she wanted next. For him to take it back? To be able to take it back herself? Perhaps he wanted that.

She'd wanted closure. She knew that. But she never got it, she still hadn't got it. It was why she and Derek and Addison and now George were all stuck in this weird, complicated and screwed up limbo-type thing, where nobody was moving forwards. If anything, progress was only going backwards.

The doors opened and with one of those trademark McDreamy longing looks over his shoulder in her direction, Derek admitted defeat for now and stepped off the elevator. The doors closed again and Meredith slumped herself against the wall slightly.

"It may be none of my business but…"

Meredith looked up at the nurse she'd forgotten was there and discovered a sympathetic look coming her way. She arched an eyebrow, warning her but encouraging her to continue.

"…there is no way that man wants to stay with his wife."

If a freaking bystander could see that and voice it, how come nobody tangled up in this thing could? If that was how it was, why was it still a fucking mess like it was? Maybe he didn't want to stay with his wife. But if that was true, why had he chosen to not sign the divorce papers when he had the chance and why was he still with his wife? And if it wasn't true and he did want to stay with Addison, why did he continue to string Meredith along- kiss her, say he loved her and throw her those McDreamy eyes and pining looks every opportunity he had?

* * *

George. She's been with him half the morning as her and the rest of the interns follow Bailey on their rounds. He's doing his utmost best to ignore her. He's been staring at the piece of paper in his hand for a good thirty seconds now as if trying to absorb what's on it fully into his brain- but Meredith can see there's nothing written on it! She'd call him out on it if it wouldn't make things more awkward.

"You know, at some point, you are going to have to talk to me."

But George just turns on his heel muttering "I'm gonna take the stairs" and clearly, some point isn't now.

Meredith sighs and turns back to the elevator in front of her, just in time for the bell signaling its arrival at this floor. Last night really has left her up shit creek today.

"You paged?" She asks when she's upstairs, not quite sure how she managed it because she's not convinced her brain is connecting to anything today, legs included.

"Yeah, just got a new patient, maybe surgical, maybe neuro."

_Neuro. Lets hope not._

The nurse pulls back the curtain. There's a couple… possibly a few seconds away from making out in front of her, with the guy holding an ice pack over his pants.

"Er, this doesn't look surgical…"

"Not him, her."

Meredith turns back to the couple. To the woman.

"This is so embarrassing, but we didn't know what else to do," She says as she turns her head, revealing her neck. More specifically, the fork sticking out of it.

She groans inside when she's realizes it's definitely going to be neuro, which means she's going to have to page Derek. See Derek. Work with Derek.

So as it transpires, they were out having dinner when the woman decided to give him a little special attention under the table.

"Oh dear lord," She moans when her partner reveals that little nugget.

"_Oh_, okay." There's a little smirk from Derek shot Meredith's way and, as much as she doesn't want to acknowledge him or them or _that_ right now, she cannot help recall a similar situation they were once in. Just, minus cutlery being jabbed into body parts. And it's clear from that wry grin and knowing look he gives her a second later that he's thinking about that very thing.

_There was a small white table, rusting at the bottom of the legs, and a random three chairs positioned around it. Meredith had enquired as to the reason for this number when, he was one person, living alone- who were the other two for? Derek responded with some silly crack about putting his feet up._

_But this is where they were eating breakfast this morning. It was cold out still because they were up at stupid o'clock for work, and Meredith wore a grumpy face because despite many protests, Derek had insisted on eating out here. So she'd donned an extra sweater and sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, just managing to balance her bum and feet on the small metal chair. Which was also frozen._

"_Cheer up," Derek said as he stepped outside. He put two mugs of black coffee down on the table, being careful because it was unstable and wobbled from one of the wonky legs. He kissed the side of her neck affectionately then disappeared back inside for food. _

_Meredith looked out over his land. She had to admit, it was a sight to wake up to. It was cold, yes, but… ugh, she wasn't particularly an 'oooh, nature is beautiful person', but there was something to say about waking up here. And with a nice naked man to making breakfast too._

_At least, he had been naked at one point._

"_So, we have eggs, toast, I can do bacon- or there's cereal; cornflakes, muesli. Or raisin bran. And juice. Is orange ok? I can get something else for next time if you want…"_

_Meredith raised an eyebrow. "Er, orange is fine. Breakfast options are great. Really. Cereal is good."_

"_Sure?"_

_She nods. "I'll take the cornflakes."_

"_Ok, good. Great."_

_Meredith struggles to stifle a laugh. "You have soy milk?"_

_Derek's face falls. "No. Semi-skim."_

"_Derek, I only take soy."_

_His disappointed face falls further. "How did I not notice that? __Crap. __Shit. Um, do you want—"_

"_I am kidding." She smirks. "Stop this. Cereal is fine. Whatever milk is fine. Most mornings I eat leftover food for breakfast! Stop trying to make this perfect or impress me or whatever you're trying to do."_

_He rolled his eyes and sat down beside her._

"_Ok, fine. But come on, this is the first night you've stayed over. I don't want to scare you off and you not come over again. I don't want it to be Derek and his rubbish trailer again, I want it to be more… don't come a knockin' when the trailers rockin'…"_

_Meredith snorted up the coffee she'd been drinking and began to choke. Only when she'd cleared her throat and stopped coughing, and laughing, could she speak._

"_Ok, we will never use that phrase, ever. Ok? To describe anything. I like the trailer. I like it. I like you."_

_Derek is not the type to be nervous around women but Meredith makes him nervous. He doesn't understand it._

_But satisfied with her response, he smiles. He's glad Meredith approves, it means a lot to him. They might've only started this thing a short time ago, but already what she thinks, matters to him. She matters to him. _

"_And anyway." Meredith starts, bringing him back into the conversation. "Who says we have to be inside the trailer to do things?"_

_He raises an eyebrow. "What sort of things might these be?"_

"_Well…" Meredith slips a foot out of her shoe. The cold air nips at her foot but for now, she ignores it. She slides it up the inside of his leg, stopping at the top and starts rubbing him through the material of his pants. "We don't have to be inside to do this."_

_How she can manage to work him up under a table, through pants, with socks on, is a small mystery beyond him, but he's not going to complain. Good god no. He shifts on the seat, trying to get a little more comfortable. Trying to give her a little more access._

_But as quick she's started, she drops her foot, leaving him bereft. But then she gets up from her chair, pushes the table back, and straddles his lap where's he's sitting. One hand is on his shoulder as she kisses him, and the other hand slips between their bodies and takes on where her foot left off. "Don't need to be in there for this either," She mutters between kisses._

_Soon he can't take it anymore, and after she's moved down his body, unzipped the zip and used her mouth for something other and better than kissing him, he lifts her body up off him and sends them backwards onto the grass below them. The table gets knocked over but neither really pays any attention. They do it on the grass and Meredith is destined to find some green-colored scrapes on her ass later._

_Afterwards she promises she'll definitely be over here again, if these are the kind of things she has to look forward to. He pulls her up and off the grass before they catch their death and swats her on the bum as he chases her back inside the trailer. There's no time to get food now so he promises her a bagel and whatever else she wants when they get to the hospital._

* * *

Derek spends a portion of his afternoon trying to talk Mrs fork-in-neck-Booker into having surgery to remove the aneurism on her brain. She refuses. This, this thing cutting her life short, has made her marriage good. Her husband notices her now and if this surgery is successful she doesn't want to go back to being her husband's 'bed warmer in a full-length flannel nightgown'.

Had it grown to be like that with him and Addison? Sure, there were no full length nightgowns, because Addison wasn't the sort but, on the nights when they were both home, bed was often minimal conversation, awkward at best, and either or both parties were asleep not long after heads hit the pillow. When they dressed up to go out, Derek commented on how good she looked, and she did, but to him it was all the same- the fancy outfits were starting to blur into one, and the nice dinner parties and forced conversations were starting to become something he no longer enjoyed. So he'd become absent. He'd grown tired of them and the same repetitive things, day in day out, and become absent, not putting in the effort he felt he no longer had.

When he thinks about his relationship with Meredith, he can't see the same happening. Mind you, at the start of his relationship with Addison, he would've said the same thing too. But Meredith is different. He feels different with her. He's loved Addison but loving Meredith is different for him, it feels like a whole new feeling, it's not how he's experienced it before.

It doesn't help that with it, comes jealousy and frustration and a whole host of other negative things, because he can't have her.

She's spent most of the day ignoring him, when she can- or ignoring the conversation she knows they should have. He told her he'd fallen in love with her. He's gone from thinking it was a good thing to do, to being a stupid thing, and now he's back to it being a good thing and he doesn't regret it. Even if she did kick him out. Even if she's told him she can't take this.

He's glad when Mrs. Booker decides to have the surgery. And afterwards, he's watching the couple from outside her room where's she awake and 's Something bad brought them closer together- did it always work that way though? Addison cheating sure hadn't brought them closer together, definitely not yet, and not that he could foresee happening either. And failing to disclose his wife to Meredith hadn't brought them closer together either. But he was hoping that one was a yet.

He really did have to sort himself out. He couldn't carry on telling Meredith all these things, wishing things were different between them, wishing he was with her all the while he stayed married. It was wrong for everyone. Including Addison.

But first, he had to sort the more immediate problem with Meredith. They had to talk about last night; he opened up and she closed off.

As luck would have it, it seemed Meredith had a similar idea to him. Though, it involved checking on their patient, not the talking part. She rounded the corner, pausing momentarily when she noticed Derek there, too. Her eyes flickered between the husband the wife.

"How is she?"

"She's doing fine," Derek replied, watching as Meredith slid the chart open and scanned over it. "Mer… we do need to talk. _Please_."

She sighed, but nodded.

"Why did you kick me out?"

Shrug.

"Answer," Derek whispers. "I said I'd fallen in love with you. And you kick me out, you shout. Today you ignore me. I'm so… I don't know what to do here, Mer. I've been at a loss all day. Maybe I shouldn't have said that last night, but I did. Please don't ignore without at least telling me why. I need something."

"When I said I loved you, when I said pick me, Derek, chose me? You chose your wife. The first time I've ever told someone that and really, _really_ meant it and I'm left feeling the fool because you chose someone else."

"I know." He replied morosely. A reminder wasn't needed.

"I said I love you and it didn't mean anything. It didn't change anything. But you saying it, it does change things. You're with Addison. You're still married to her. You can't say you love me, not when you've chosen to stay with her."

"But—"

"No, no buts. Derek, you don't get it. You mess with my head so much- you mess with _me_. You still have a wife. You still have a ring on your finger that's supposed to mean you're in love with and committed to someone else. What am I? The one you pick up and drop at your convenience? You know how I feel and you mess with that. Because you know that, to some extent, I'll do almost anything for you or to keep things good between us, whatever that is. Because I need you. I want to believe that you love me. I wish that it meant what I want it to mean, but it doesn't. You. Are. _Married _and I'm the other woman. I don't know what I am to you. This needs to stop, it hurts too much. We need to stop."

Derek says nothing. Not that he'd have been able to get a word in. And if he had, all he'd be able to muster would've been 'sorry', said a fifty times, more if he'd thought it would make an impact and mean anything.

He hadn't realized how cruel he was being to her. Sure, he knew the lying about Addison had been pretty bad. And telling her they were over, then keeping her guessing whilst he made up his mind, a result that ended in him remaining married.

But he'd failed to properly realize what he was doing now, how much he was hurting her. He was toying with her feelings, not intentionally, but that didn't matter. It was wrong. But he couldn't stop himself. He wanted Meredith. Loved Meredith. Needed her in his life and not just as a colleague, or even as a friend. She was much more than that to him.

As when luck was on his side when Meredith had rounded the corner just then, bad luck was also now here in the form of his wife, smiling a tight smile, no doubt because of his intern.

"Derek! Dr Grey." She wrapped one awkward arm around Derek's shoulder. "Are you finished up? Are you ready to go?"

"Er…" Derek cleared his throat, still at a loss for words after Meredith's little speech, outburst, whatever it was. "I'm just, yeah, I'm finished. Was just checking on someone."

"Right." Addison's eyes flickered to the patient and then briefly to Meredith; she wondered who her husband really meant. "So shall we go?"

Derek headed off with Addison, disappointed and upset at the way that had gone. His wife was chattering on in his ear, but he couldn't hear any of it. Meredith's words were stuck on repeat in his head the rest of the evening and he could barely focus on anything else.

He makes a promise to sort this out, tomorrow. He has to do something about this mess. Sort it out one way or another, because none of them can carry on like this. He's still very much in love with Meredith and can't keep trying to work on his marriage when he is. Now is time for sleep though, or at least a try.


End file.
